


Closer, closer, closer...

by heda_leksa



Series: Clexa Nursing One Shots [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: ANR, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Breastfeeding, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff, Gentle, Gentleness, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Nursing, Nursing Kink, Sad Clarke Griffin, adult nursing relationship, boobs, soft clexa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 15:22:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20066227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heda_leksa/pseuds/heda_leksa
Summary: "She presses herself as close as she can to her girlfriend, wanting to melt into her,closer closer closer."-or, the one where Clarke finds comfort in being close to Lexa.





	Closer, closer, closer...

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I'm back!
> 
> This picks up the morning after Serenity.
> 
> As always, feel free to leave constructive criticism, it's appreciated! And if you want to leave hate, don't.

**~*~**  
Lexa emerged from the bedroom far later than Clarke. At ten-thirty am, to be precise. She vaguely remembers her girlfriend getting out of bed somewhere around eight, but she had quickly fallen back asleep. 

The scent of her favorite scented candle (the vanilla and honey one) hits her first, and then she hears the faint noise of brushes against a canvas. With a smile on her lips, she shakes her head to herself. So _that’s_ why Clarke got up so early. The blonde had explained it to her some time, that occasionally she will wake up with a rush of inspiration that makes her fingers itch and her mind so alert that she cannot fall back asleep. 

On the weekends Clarke both wakes up earlier (even if it is not to paint) and makes eggs and bacon for breakfast, but Lexa doesn’t smell food today. Her girlfriend must’ve gotten caught up in her rush of inspiration. Another thing she tends to do.

Lexa finds Clarke in the living room, standing in front of her easel with all her paints messily spread out around her, the white t-shirt she’s wearing long-since ruined by oil paint. She still has bed hair and no pants on, so she either was in a great hurry to get up and paint, or she knew that Lexa was going to like the sight of her bare lower body to be the first thing she saw when she got up. Maybe both, Lexa figures. 

“Good morning, Clarke,” Lexa says, voice croaky from sleep. 

Her girlfriend doesn’t tear her eyes off the canvas. “Good morning, Lex.”

The brunette, who had been leaning against the wall, comes up to Clarke from behind, wrapping her arms around her and nuzzling her face into the crook of her neck. Clarke smelled faintly of sleep, shampoo, and flowers, and Lexa found herself unable to breathe in enough of Clarke at once. Her hand finds its way under Clarke’s shirt, and she smiles at the feeling of Clarke’s soft skin. She watches the way the brush effortlessly glides across the canvas, each stroke adding a whole new dynamic to the painting, amazed at the talent her girlfriend has. The painting itself makes her feel an overwhelming warmth inside.

It’s her. It’s her in the morning glow, sleeping peacefully on her side, hair sprawled out across the pillow almost like a halo. 

“I woke up this morning, and the first thing I saw was you,” Clarke tells her softly. “You looked so beautiful, and so peaceful, Lexa. The artist in me couldn’t wait to capture that very moment in a painting,” she says with a smile. “I paint you a lot.”

“I’ve noticed,” Lexa smiles. “There’s a painting of me in our bedroom. To be honest, I feel slightly uncomfortable looking at myself every time I enter our bedroom, but you made it, so of course, it stays up.”

“I love that one,” Clarke says. “_I love you_.”

Lexa kisses Clarke’s neck tenderly. “I love you too, Clarke. I know you’re kind of on a roll here, but you’ve been up for a while now. Aren’t you hungry?”

“A little, yeah. But I don’t want to break whatever I have going on here,” she sighs. “It’s the first time in weeks I’ve been able to do more than a sketch, you know?”

“You need to eat something, love. You didn’t have much for dinner last night, either.” 

Lexa feels a little tug on her heart when she thinks of Clarke’s mood yesterday. She had been non-verbal for the most part, shutting down and being unable to eat, drink, even get up from the couch. Lexa had found herself at a loss for solutions - she had tried everything she could think of to make Clarke at least have a bite of the spaghetti she had cooked for her. It wasn’t until much later in the evening, after their shared bath, that Clarke finally seemed to feel better, lighter. All because of one shared, tender moment between the two. A soft warmth settles in her chest when she thinks about it. She had liked it more than she thought she would. If Clarke needed it again, she would definitely not be opposed. 

She nips at Clarke’s earlobe, trying to catch the attention of the girl who had once again lost herself in the painting. “Five more minutes,” Clarke mutters. “I want to finish your lips, okay?”

“Okay, five minutes,” she smiles. “And hey, pay some attention to my real lips too,” she teases. 

Clarke grins at that, and she curves her neck to capture Lexa’s soft lips between her own, smiling into the kiss. 

~*~

Her girlfriend is her normal self today. 

Lexa can see the tiredness in her eyes and the exhaustion in her movement, but that’s something that has nearly weaved itself into Clarke by now. She looks happier, more at ease with everything, and she actually smiles and laughs and Lexa has never been more in love with her. Even though the darkness that hung over her head yesterday still lingers in the shadows and creases, it doesn’t envelop her today. It is simply there, and both of them have gotten used to it at this point. 

It’s eight pm and they’re lying on the couch, Lexa on her back with Clarke half on top of her. She has her arms wrapped protectively around the smaller girl, who’s humming along to the Wynonna Earp intro song. The vibrations of Clarke’s voice resonate deep within her bones, and it makes her smile. They started the show yesterday, in an attempt to distract Clarke from her own mind, and they’re now halfway through season one. 

Lexa feels Clarke's lips press a light, barely-there kiss to her collarbone. Her cold hand finds its way beneath her shirt, coming to rest on her hip. Lexa squirms at the contrast in temperature, Clarke’s icy hand feels way too cold on her warm skin, but she makes no effort to move her away. She tries to stay focused on the episode, where Wynonna is slowly losing her mind trying to hunt down a revenant. 

Clarke’s hand wanders further up her body, fingertips tracing the surface. Lexa glances down at her girlfriend. Clarke doesn’t have her eyes on the screen anymore, instead, they’re set on newly revealed tanned skin, where Lexa’s shirt has slid down a bit. Clarke kisses the swell of her breast sweetly, breathing in her comforting scent. 

_Closer, closer, closer_. 

That’s all that passes through her mind. She intertwines their legs, and then she looks up at Lexa. Lexa looks down at her again, raising an eyebrow.

“I, uh… about last night..” she starts. “How did you… how did you feel about it?”

Lexa knows what Clarke is talking about right away, and she smiles softly, tenderness in her eyes. She lifts one hand to brush a blonde curl behind Clarke’s ear. “I liked it, Clarke. It was new, maybe an odd feeling at first, but I liked it,” she said earnestly. “It was… relaxing.” 

“So, you wouldn’t… you wouldn’t mind doing it as, like…” she tries to find the words. “Like a regular thing?”

“I don’t have anything against that,” she shakes her head.

Clarke nods shakily, and then she looks away from Lexa. The hand under her shirt moves downwards again to tug at the hem of her shirt, and she shoots Lexa a glance, silently asking permission. Lexa only gives her a bigger smile. Clarke sits up and lifts the shirt up to reveal small, perky, perfect breasts. The sudden change in temperature hardens the pink nipples slightly. Clarke smiles fondly at the sigh, and she leans in to leave a trail of kisses from the dip of Lexa’s collarbone, down the valley between her breasts. She breathes over a nipple, looking up at Lexa with innocent blue eyes. The brunette is watching the TV, but she must’ve seen Clarke in the corner of her eye because the corner of her mouth tugged upward slightly.

“Go ahead, Clarke. It’s okay.”

Clarke takes the nipple into her mouth, and as she begins to suckle, she gently massages the other breast with her hand. Lexa lets out a sigh of contentment, rubbing soothingly up and down Clarke’s back. Clarke’s mouth is warm, and something about the suckling affects her in a way nothing ever has. 

For Clarke, it’s the stillness. 

Her mind, especially on bad days, is a busy and loud and never-ending. There is so much bad happening that sometimes it feels like the world is caving in on itself. But, in these moments with Lexa… everything stops. She feels the outer world slip away, a wall rises between her and the stress and hurt the world brings. There is only her, Lexa, and the stillness.

She presses herself as close as she can to her girlfriend, wanting to melt into her, _closer closer closer_. 

She has settled into a rhythmic suckling, lost in their own little world, and suddenly nothing feels heavy anymore. She just _is_. 

She hooks one arm under Lexa’s shoulder, grasping onto her and holding her close as if Lexa would ever think of pulling away. Not in a million years. Clarke’s eyes are closed now, and she has sunk deep into herself and the safety the situation brings. Lexa smiles and her heart feels so full of love that she thinks it might burst. 

Lexa strokes Clarke’s hair, her own eyes falling shut. The feeling of Clarke’s suckling is still new to her, still a bit of an odd sensation, that she welcomes with open arms. Not wanting to miss more of the show, she blindly reaches for the remote and pauses. Despite the subtle movement, Clarke notices, and big blue eyes look up at her. 

“Shhh, it’s okay. I was just pausing the episode, love.”

Clarke releases her nipple with a pop and moves over to the other. Lexa lets out a tiny gasp when Clarke’s warm, wet mouth wraps around her stiff nipple, and she feels Clarke smile.

Clarke settles, and with closed eyes, Lexa listens to the small noise Clarke’s suckling makes. 

It’s not long until she feels the blonde get heavier against her, sleep overtaking her. The nipple slides out of her mouth as Clarke goes limp on top of her. Lexa falls asleep just a few heartbeats later, the last thing on her mind being her endless amount of love she has for the woman sleeping on her chest right now.

~*~

It’s midnight, and after their nap on the couch, they’re energized enough to stay up another few hours. Well, Clarke is. Lexa made herself some coffee, hoping it would energize her enough for an hour, at least. She wants to keep Clarke company.

Clarke is working away at her painting, and it’s fascinating for Lexa to watch herself come alive on the canvas, brush stroke for brush stroke. It’s beyond her how Clarke can perfectly capture the way every stream of light hits her, every highlight, every shadow, and every curve of her face. Lexa enjoys art too. Occasionally she’ll borrow some of Clarke’s supplies and sketch something. 

(Clarke, mostly. And candles. Recently, raccoons had been a thing, too.)

She watched Clarke with eyes glossed over with tiredness, her eyelids heavy and her body exhausted despite the miniature toll she had put on it today. She so desperately wants to just grab Clarke’s hand and take her to bed so that she can sleep, but she doesn’t want to pull Clarke out of her inspiration-rush, as she called it. 

When the clock on the wall strikes one am, she sees Clarke’s movements turn lazy, her stance wavering and the hand she holds the pencil in trembles. 

“I think it’s time to go to bed, Clarke,” she says. “Even great artists like you need their beauty sleep.”

Clarke doesn’t fight it this time. Actually, she seems almost relieved to have Lexa interrupt her.

“I think you’re right,” she says, right before she breaks out into a huge yawn. 

Lexa gets up from the couch, rubbing her eyes, who are getting blurry. She lets Clarke wash her brushes and clean up some of the mess she had made, and then she silently takes her hand, leading her towards the bedroom. If she thought she was tired, Clarke was on another level. There were dark circles around her eyes, who were red from her constant rubbing (in an effort to stay awake) and she looked totally spent. Her face and clothes are stained with paint, and she wonders how some of it had even gotten into her hair. Clarke looked like a messy work of art, and Lexa kissed her softly. 

Quietly, they strip. They always sleep naked, just because it’s more intimate, closer. Clarke always wants to be close at night, always touch, always feel. 

Lexa lies on her side, her eyes already shut, half-asleep by the time Clarke crawls into bed next to her. The blonde lies with her head against Lexa’s chest, listening to the faint thumping of her heart. She mumbled something incoherent (goodnight, probably) to her girlfriend, and Lexa replied with a kiss to the top of her head. 

They fall asleep to the sound of the other’s calm breathing, Lexa’s arm wrapped protectively around Clarke.

~*~

**Author's Note:**

> they're so soft oof
> 
> let me know if I made any mistakes, I didn't proofread it very carefully.


End file.
